


Bet it Feels Pretty Real When Your Skin Starts to Peel From Your Bones

by SlytherintheLibrary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Depression, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gay Sirius Black, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Minor Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Minor Theodore Nott/Ron Weasley, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Paranoia, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Harry Potter, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Remus Lupin Lives, Sad Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape Lives, Shy Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black Lives, Survivor Guilt, Therapy, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherintheLibrary/pseuds/SlytherintheLibrary
Summary: After the war Draco Malfoy was aquitted provided that he attend Hogwarts for the Eighth Year. He is disgusted with himself, and honestly doesn't have a clue why he's not in Azkaban with his Father.Of all the scenarios he would have pictured for his last year of Hogwarts, he had not imagined something quite so...medical.Minerva Mcgonagall knows how hard these eighth years had it in the war, and believes strong measures are warranted. Not only has she made a separate dorm specifically for eighth years with Snape in charge; she also has it run like a mental hospital. Due to their traumatic experiences and mental illness issues, eighth years are required to attend therapy sessions and meals together in their dorm for the first 3 weeks. Then they will be allowed to integrate classes and 'normal' activities into their schedule at discretion of the therapists.And who are the therapists? None other than Remus Lupin and Sirius Black!The worst part, though? The really annoying part (though he supposes he deserves it), is that he is forced to room with his long time crush and supposed enemy, Harry Potter.How will Draco manage this discombobulated version of Hogwarts?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Theodore Nott/Ron Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 86





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okayyyyy so this is NOT my first book, but it IS my first fanfiction. I'm actually working on an original series I want to publish, but I want to just have some drabble/for fun/practice writing because WHY NOT?! Who doesn't love torturing characters?
> 
> In all seriousness, this book will be talking about mental illness. Please be respectful, don't read it if you don't like it or if it triggers you at any point. Though I know half the time people don't listen to trigger warnings but meh. 
> 
> THERE will be NO graphic depictions of self-harm or eating disorder behaviours, DON'T BE COMING IN HERE FOR TIPS AND TRIGGERS.
> 
> ALSO, the mental illnesses I write about are only ones that I experience. If you do not have the same symptom presentation as I write in this book that is fine, however it does not mean that what I'm writing is inherently or wholly incorrect, as all of my mental illness content comes from altered experiences of my own or of symptoms of disorders I have that I have fully researched.
> 
> And OBVIOUSLY I do not own harry potter or any associated characters, that belongs to J.K. Rowling, but y'all know that. 
> 
> Welp,  
> SlytherintheLibrary

Draco Malfoy is a disgrace to society.

At least, that is how he views himself. As the war ended with Voldemort (and countless others) dead; he thought:

_'this is it, I am a slimy worthless lemming who followed Voldemort off the cliff. But I couldn't even 'lemming' right; I had to give Harry Fucking Potter my wand at the last second. As such, I have accepted my deserved fate of Azkaban 'til death.'_

Only, apparently Potter - of all the fucking selfless people - disagreed with his (correct, thank you very much) self-assessment. As Draco Malfoy sat on trial in front of the Wizengamot, Harry Potter stood up to testify _on his and Mother's behalf_. 

Honestly, the nerve of some peop- actually no. The outright selfless _audacity_ of certain Gryffindors has got to be stopped. He was perfectly comfortable with a life left to drown in misery and self-deprecation, he expected it! It is his Merlin-given RIGHT to be sentenced to a life of terror and despair, how DARE Potter take that choice away from him.

Alas, Draco could not summon any gryffindor impuslivity (go figure, he would sooner sort into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff than the house of Godrick), and so watched in blank astonishment and horror as the Wizengamot sentenced his mother to 1 month of community service rebuilding Hogwarts and 3 years of wand-restrictions and house-arrest at the Burrow with the Weasleys in a separate apartment (how had THAT happened?); as well as wand-restrictions and mandatory attendance for an 8th year at Hogwarts for Draco himself. 

He was angry at Harry for ruining his Plan To Die In Azkaban; however hard he tried he could not summon an ounce of regret or remorse for the ban on either himself or Mother returning to the Manor. After his not-so-great-childhood (courtesy of the One and Only Lucius Malfoy), coupled with the fact that both the Dark Lord and Fenrir Greyback had resided for some time within its walls Draco was relieved that he would never feel obligated to set foot there again.

As the court adjourned and Father was led off to life-imprisonment in Azkaban Draco Malfoy found himself numbly standing and following his mother and a guard to a floo that would take them to a temporary apartment. Apparently shortly before Hogwarts started in September his mother would move into the Burrow apartment; as of the moment it was unfinished.

Before he stepped into the floo - ready to recite the floo address the guard handed to him on a piece of paper - his gaze locked on bright green eyes.

Those eyes held stories and messages Draco was too scared and stressed to interpret.

He ducked his head and recited the address as quickly and softly as possible.

The green eyes glimmered - then vanished.

So did Draco's sanity.


	2. Our chance to turn it 'round

Draco POV

Draco isn’t sure why Mother is packing his bags. He is certain that she told him, Mother would never be so obvious with packing otherwise. However situated as he is - curled up in the corner, eyes vacant, brain floating somewhere outside his body - he could not summon the effort to ask.

Apathy seemed to be the only reliable constant in his existence at present; if only he could hang onto its essence and weave it into the fabric of his being permanently. Though he was loath to admit it, Draco could not maintain this apathetic dissociation for long periods. The stretches of time in between these episodes were ones filled with other equally familiar and decidedly more distressing symptoms.

Some days Draco Malfoy is so present in his pain that he cannot tell past from present; even reality from imaginary.

~~~

Arriving at King’s Cross forced Draco to pull out of his reverie. He cursed his addled sensibilities, if he had only listened to what Mother said she was packing for then he could have avoided this _unnecessary_ excursion to take him to Hogwarts. Mother still held his hand from apparating; he released it quickly.

“Why are we here Mother? Was I not explicit in my plans to _avoid Hogwarts at all costs_?”

Mother’s sad smile was uncomfortably recognizable; now enough so to even create fine creases in her skin that remained long after the expression faded.

“Darling, you have to go to Hogwarts - remember? It is your duty now, the final task from your sentencing. Ah-”

She held her hand up to quiet him as he tried to interrupt.

“I know you were very much set in the idea of living out your existence in Azkaban. My son, I know even if you do not that you do not deserve Azkaban. The Ministry decided that you would complete your education in an 8th year of Hogwarts. I cannot say that I disagree with them - from what Minerva has told me I think you will really...benefit from this year in particular.”

“Mother, I cannot go back there! I’ve hurt so many people, I should be dead and yet I’m still alive while the innocent have died. I fought on the side of the Death Eaters, I received the mark: _I am_ a Death Eater! I deserve punishment and misery for my actions - not fucking divination and herbology!”

All of Draco’s life he had seen his mother with a fabricated proper mask - a Malfoy exterior. In this moment she lost that varnished and calculated expression. Draco hated himself more than ever ( _really, he is an overachiever sometimes_ ). As he turned to leave he knew that he was the one responsible for finally breaking his mother.

He is a _monster_ , the proof in his mother’s crumpled countenance was enough for him to -

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

“...”

~~~

**Harry’s POV**

Returning to Hogwarts for an 8th year of study felt like putting on a starched, well-worn wool jacket. The coat that was once warm, new and exciting is now threadbare, and while it had always been a little itchy and uncomfortable the starching of such a worn material ensured that every unbearable movement was a flash-back to times when there was warmth and carefree-joy. If one could even describe Harry’s Hogwarts experience as ‘ _carefree_ ’, which would have been an astronomical stretch, to say the least.

Harry’s original thoughts on returning had been optimistic - _finally_ a chance to receive an education without the foreshadowing of war and an anemic nose-less psychopath trying to kill him! Now, Harry felt the true magnitude of the war perhaps more than he had while it was happening. He had expected Hogwarts to bear marks from the war when he returned - and the fact that most of those had either been glamoured or actually fixed was somehow more unsettling. It was as if the school was trying to _erase_ the memories and ghosts of unhappiness and loved-ones lost.

As he sat in the back of the Great Hall, waiting for the remaining student body to assemble before sorting he heard a ruckus in the corridor just off the Great Hall. He was close to the doors so he turned just in time to see a ‘ _stupefied_ ’ figure being levitated towards the hospital wing. He thought that he should have felt joy or some sort of similar emotion at seeing his school rival unconscious.

Looking at Draco Malfoy’s prone form elicited no such reaction from Harry. He tried his hardest to identify just what feeling caused his heart to leap into his throat and his brow to furrow.

_Concern_

**_Merlin slap him with a cold trout!_ **

He was _concerned_ for Draco Malfoy.

Bloody hell!

~~~

_***** _ _**Draco is now conscious and the 8th years are all gathered into a classroom with Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Professor Snape, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. They are receiving instructions on what their 8th year will look like from Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, her dialogue is lengthy and italicized:*** _

~~~

**Draco’s POV**

Merlin fuck him!

Merlin fuck them all!

“ _Welcome back 8th year and select 7th year students. We have gathered you separately as your schedule will be much different from those of other students. I have decided after long counsel and discussion with parents, Professor Snape, and Mr. Remus Lupin-Black and Mr. Sirius Lupin-Black to construct and instill a separate dorm for all of you. In this dorm you will not differentiate by houses, and for the first 3 weeks you will be required to attend mandatory therapy and meals together in your dorm. You might be able to liken this dorm as one similar to muggle mental hospitals or the Janice Thickey ward at St. Mungo’s. It definitely incorporates aspects and procedures from both, and is also larger than any other House dorm._

_You may attend classes between these events at the discretion of your therapists: the Lupin-Black’s. You will attend only the classes in which you need to learn from. We have decided that none of you will attend DADA classes and these will be replaced with muggle-based meditation sessions as well as Patronus training for those not yet versed in the skill. Professor Snape has agreed to give up her place as Slytherin Head of House in order to focus her entire attention on running this dorm with the occasional potions tutoring session for advanced students in that subject._

_We realize that all of you standing here have experienced more trauma, injury, and death than is your due. You were failed by the adults around you and had to relinquish your childhoods to fight in a war that should not have had to participate in. This is our way of trying to counterbalance the many ways in which we and other authority figures have failed you. Some of you fought for the light, and others were forced to choose between the dark or the loss of their families over following their true beliefs. We thank you for your part in ensuring that we are able to stand here today._

_Have a dull, peaceful school year! Please follow the Lupin-Black’s and Dorm Matron Snape to your dorm!”_

Draco could not believe his ears. This is what Mother must have meant in her cryptic farewell. And what was up with Dorm _Matron_ Snape?

He followed the rag-tag group of students to their new dorm. Aside from Draco himself Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood had returned for their 8th year.

10 students.

This should be _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that we will get into the more juicy bits of the story soon - just needed to lay down a framework before I started into the fun stuff. Also, each chapter title as well as the book title are lyrics from the song 'One Day the Only Butterflies Left Will Be In Your Chest as You March Towards Your Death Breathing Your Last Breath' by Bring Me the Horizon. And...Snape is a Trans Woman now and I have no regrets because fuck J.K. Rowling's opinions on trans people, we are all valid in our gender expression and identities and we need more LGBTQ+ representation in literature! Also, it will be revealed in the next chapter that Hermione Granger is a POC who was forced to wear a glamour and polyjuice to fit in during her stay at Hogwarts because the Harry Potter series is so white that it's tragic.   
> Sincerely,  
> ~Kermit


	3. Why'd I Keep Pushing My Luck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets thoughtful. Harry gets descriptive and pensive. They both get surprised. Draco almost drools. Yeah that's pretty much the summary of the events in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so I've been busy, Self-Care is important.  
> But here's an update, what do you think of POC Hermione and Transgender Snape?  
> I appreciate your comments, thank you for the feedback and encouragement.  
> I will attempt to update with increased frequency, but no promises.

**Draco’s POV**

The walk to their new dorms seemed to go on forever. Up and up the stairs they went - Draco had to concentrate hard to make sure that he kept up with the rest of the group before the staircases switched. Finally, they arrived at the door of the astronomy tower.

“Our dorms are in the astronomy tower?”

This question - from Potter, naturally - stilled the movements Snape had begun with her wand. Everyone seemed to be waiting in a tense silence, waiting for the inevitable cutting remark from Snape. Right, now it was _Dorm Matron_ Snape, apparently. Draco watched as Snape turned slowly towards Potter. Upon somewhat-closer inspection, Snape wasn’t wearing the same robes she used to - instead what seemed to be a long-sleeved-muggle-style-dress enrobed the professor, shimmering with magic as she looked Potter up and down.

“Mister Potter, I can understand why you would think such a thing, we are after all standing at the entrance to the astronomy tower. However, I must correct you. We are not located in the astronomy tower; I will teach everyone this spell in due time, as when standing at the entrance of the astronomy tower you will incant this spell which in turn opens this door-”

Snape paused her speech momentarily to finish the spell motion with her wand. A cherry-wood door with a brass handle appeared just to the left of the astronomy tower entrance.

“-through which you will access your new dorms. In this first week assessments and evaluations will be enacted, and treatment plans will be organized for each student. This means that for this first week none of you will attend classes or indeed leave this dorm without either myself, Madame Pomfrey, Headmistress McGonagall, or one of the Lupin-Blacks accompanying you.”

A groan rose from the students, and many mumbled expletives under their breath at Snape’s words. Draco, however, could care less that they were locked in their dorm for a week. The thing that had his mouth agape was Snape’s cordiality in response to Potter’s stupid question. In years past, Draco could always count on Snape to snap at Potter at any presented opportunity. Now, the professor had not only been cordial, she had been _genuinely cordial_. Maybe it was because Snape could finally realize her true identity as a woman; that she now seemed so genuine, cordial, and kind. Or maybe Snape could not bring herself to care about such trivial matters as student-teacher rivalries after the many horrors the war had brought upon them all.

“A-hem”

Draco came back to the present at the abrupt throat clearing. He must have zoned out. Or gone to that floaty-place, both had been so frequent of late that he struggled to differentiate which was which, or maybe they were one and the same.

“Draco, everyone else has entered the dorm. Are you feeling okay to come now?” 

Snape’s tone was so much gentler than Draco had ever remembered it to be.

“Yes professor, I will come now”

“Fabulous, and please address me as ‘Matron’ now, ‘professor’ brings me back to my time before I transitioned. They were not happy times.”

Draco thought that _‘not happy times’_ was a gross understatement of both his family issues as well as the events that had occurred at Hogwarts during the times he had been at school. 

“Yes, Matron.”

He entered the dorm.

=x=x=

**Harry’s POV (first-person for a change)**

I walked to the room that Remus Lupin-Black had told me was mine. Apparently I was going to be sharing my room with one other roommate, which was really a nice change after the crowded shared dorms of Gryffindor house. I stepped into the room, the door was open and the room contained 2 narrow beds, one against each side of the room, with a window on the wall in-between them. The afternoon sun glinted off the silver knobs to a small closet on the side of the room opposite of the window that was closest to the door - with a worn but cozy looking patch-quilted floor cushion nestled in between the end of the farther bed and the wall.

Lastly, a small table sat under the window, with what looked to be an enchanted globe with the appearance of the moon; this globe floated a few centimeters above the surface of the tabletop. I knew it was enchanted not just because of the fact that it was floating, also because the globe seemed to be emanating a soft glow, which grew brighter as the light from the sinking sun grew more strained and dim.

I took a few more awkward, exploratory steps towards the bed against the far wall. Remus had told me that I should just choose a bed, as they were identical; their luxuriously soft brown comforters and crisp creamy sheets a huge step up from the bed clothes in either the Gryffindor house or the beds of Grimmauld place. Though Sirius and Remus both lived with me at Grimmauld place; they had little time to work on home improvements with both the event of their marriage as well as the preparations that they had to carry out at Hogwarts for this school year - leaving me alone at Grimmauld for most of the year leading up to September. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy that they finally had the opportunity to get married and also to pursue their new-found passions of therapeutic counselling; however Grimmauld was a damp, discouraging place to dwell in for extended periods when one was alone. 

Hermione and Ron had tried to come over a few times after the war ended, but it became too hard for them. We had all been affected by the war, some of us had grotesque scarring and external blemishes - while still others suffered the horrors of nightmares, flashbacks, and other afflictions of the psyche. Hermione had scars from the fire, and part of her scalp had been burned so badly that her thick, curly hair no longer grew on the scarred skin, her ebony complexion bearing the baggy under-eyes of interrupted sleep and mental tortures.

Ron fared no better, he had always had a cheerful bluntness about him. Now his eyes darted fretfully from place to place, containing an ever-present alertness and anxiety that decimated the remaining threads of the Ron I had known those first years of Hogwarts. He had also gained a sickly expression about him that lingered strongly after meals and long minutes in the toilets. 

As for me, I had flashbacks plaguing my waking hours and nightmares filling my sleep to the point where I would have almost welcomed death if it would just stop the constant horrors I experienced. I could never sit still, which had always been a part of me, but seemed to have taken a forefront of my personality, causing me to become distracted and antsy if I had to stay still in a seat for any amount of time. The only relief I could find from it all was working out, which even after a while lost its appeal. It became a task that I had to accomplish each day to build stronger, more defined muscles, to prove that I really deserved that title: Saviour of the Wizarding World.

I flopped down onto the bed in the far end of the room, officially bequeathing it with the title of _“coziest-bed-that-the-not-all-that-great-Harry-Potter-has-ever-slept-in”._ Maybe if I just rested my eyes for a bit and didn’t sleep then I could find a sweet spot between waking flashbacks and sleeping nightmares. A semi-conscious purgatory, if you will.

“ _Potter?!_ ”

In an instant I flew into an upright position. That voice was one I had heard since first year on the train. That voice belonged to the one person who was important enough to warrant my undivided obsessions and concentrations. 

That person was Draco; Draco Lucius-

“Malfoy?”

~~~

**Draco’s POV (also first-person)**

I could deal with the maternal betrayal, the humiliating journey while _stupefied_ from the train to the hospital wing, even the transition of Snape from my uncle to my aunt was not going to bother me - after all I had always believed transgender wizards and witches were just as much wizards or witches as their cis-gender counterparts. 

But rooming with Potter? After that awful court debacle wherein he testified on my behalf (the nerve!), and my only time-intensified...affections towards certain green-eyed Gryffindors; I hardly could bring myself to stand straight (ha!) in front of the man. And man he was, with that five o’clock shadow caressing his jawline, and those bulging muscles, and that messy pile of curls that I just wanted to twirl and smooth between my fingertips and-

“Why are you here? I thought you would be rooming with Zabini or Nott - or really anybody other than me.”

I shut my jaw quickly (was that _drool_ starting on my lip?) and composed myself into that cultivated-Malfoy-heir that everyone at Hogwarts had grown to believe was the real me. Potter himself was probably the only other person in Hogwarts who could say otherwise. And I was rooming with him. The saviour and the death-eater in the same sleeping quarters.

That was surely an eye-catching headline for _The Prophet_ if ever they laid hands upon it.


	4. Haunting Your Own House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco experiences The Feels and he Malfoy's. Harry simps over Draco with heart eyes. Draco turns angst to 100%.

**Chapter 3**

**Draco’s POV (First-person)**

A whistling broke through the silence of my dorm room, sharp and shrill. Potter had gone out earlier to ‘explore the dorm’, which was probably code for ‘ _ tell-everyone-how-evil-Draco-Malfoy-still-is _ ”; and I was alone in the room. 

The sound stopped, and then I heard a voice coming closer - Sirius Lupin-Black - and seemed to be stopping to rap on the doors and speak to each room individually. He knocked on the door of the room next to mine, and I heard him say “Dinner’s ready, Luna, Ginny! Come to the dining room please; no excuses.”

Dinner.  _ Food _ . 

The textures of certain foods had always bothered me as a child, and maybe I was spoiled - but I never had to eat anything if I didn’t like it. There were also certain foods I could eat, foods that were healthy, and foods that were safe. This had significantly narrowed down my selection at Hogwarts’ meals. Apples were a constant, I could rely on the purity and texture of apples, but other stews and baked goods had always frightened me and caused me anxiety.

Who knew what textures lay in the concoctions of the house elves, what hidden impurities and unhealthy nightmares lay within the layers of deceiving flavours and non-descript textures. If this was in the great hall, then I could just get away with eating apples and the occasional bit of carrot and pumpkin juice. But this dining room held countless secrets and unknowns, anxieties just waiting to jump up through the foods and drag me down with them. Maybe Potter’s idea of ‘exploring their dorm’ wasn’t half-bad. 

See, that’s the problem with me, I’m not half bad - I’m all bad. Just like the unknowns upon the table in this ‘dining room’. 

I started to sweat and my hands trembled as I approached the door, Sirius was already starting on my door with the same speech that he had given Luna and Ginny. I opened my mouth to speak - tell him I was coming - but my throat dried up and only a strangled croak emerged. I opened the door and Sirius was already walking away from my door. I stood in the doorway for a moment, summoning what little decorum and ‘Malfoy exterior’ I could muster.

_ Malfoys don’t feel. _

_ Malfoys don’t gain weight. _

_ Malfoys are perfect, inside but especially on the outside. _

There. Mask in place. I breathed in and tucked my hands under my arms to keep my hands warm (possibly to bodily show that our barriers are up, Draco?), walking quickly out into the hall that led to the rest of the dorm. 

x=x=x

**Harry’s POV (Third-Person)**

Harry watched as Draco Malfoy seated himself on the other cracked and musty wooden bench that bordered the opposite side of the long rectangular table directly across from Harry. In earlier years, this seating arrangement would have outwardly annoyed (yet inwardly pleased) Harry. However, on this first dinner in the 8th year mental ward of Hogwarts; Harry could hardly cast his full attention (contaminated by either love or hate, who knew at this point) towards Malfoy. 

He had always been too fidgety and absent-minded when he was sitting; Harry preferred movement and doing - it always cleared his mind and helped him focus. Honestly, the amount of attention he had been able to focus on Malfoy whilst sitting during meals - especially in sixth year - it should be written down for a nomination of a muggle Nobel Prize; for nobody else had ever been able to command his undivided attention so effortlessly as Draco Malfoy seemed to.

Now, though Harry was admittedly still giving at least  _ half _ of his attention to Malfoy; there was a decidedly large part of his brain that was focused on  **Not Remembering** . Remembering always hurt, remembering meant guilt and blood and so much death and-

_ No.  _

_ Stop. _

Refocusing his brain back to the task of Not Remembering, he tried to distract himself by examining Draco Malfoy. His childhood point of obsession was still as attracti-  _ ferret-like _ as before; his white blonde hair shining starkly against his dark robes as it caressed his shoulders -  _ wow, Draco really had let it grow long over summer, it looks so goo-  _ **_ferret-like_ ** on him. 

Harry frowned. Was Draco even eating? He looked even more gaunt and skeletal than he had when Harry had seen him at the trials. His pale skin seemed even paler now, if that were possible; he looked like he had been living underground for the past few months. And, there was a decided tenseness to his posture - the stiff rigidity of his back more guarded and harsh-looking than his past years of confident Malfoy aplomb. Draco’s face; it was so drawn and pinched looking, there were horrible dark bags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves seemed as jittery and nervous as the energy that Harry felt every time he sat down in one place for too long.

“Attention students!”

Sirius was standing at the end of the table to Harry’s left - Hermione, Neville, then Ron sat on the bench between Harry and his godfather. 

“You will not be required to eat at mealtimes until you have received your respective diagnoses and treatment plans. However, we do expect all of you to be present at every main meal, for the entire duration of the meal. You are seated beside people you were friendly with in past years of Hogwarts, however in order to forge inter-house unity - especially since most of you are from the houses of Gryffindor or Slytherin - we have seated your roommate across from you. These seats are assigned and must not be changed without an acceptable faculty-approved reason. 

After either Remus or myself release you from your meal then you are free to roam the common area by the fireplace over there, go up to the relaxation area in the tower section, or go to your rooms; the door to the toilets is spelled shut for an entire half-hour after meals. If you are in desperate need of the lavatory and cannot wait then you will find either Snape, Remus or myself to accompany you and stand outside your stall for the entire time that you are in there. This rule may be relaxed somewhat as time goes on, depending on how much progress each of you make. At 21:00 this evening we will be having a group  _ get-to-know-you _ session. You will be required to participate and contribute - but tonight is only about acceptance and friendship so questions will be easy and non-invasive. 

At 22:00 you are required to go to the dormitory section of this ward - where you can prepare for bed in the toilets and in your rooms. Everyone will be sent to their respective rooms at 22:45, and you may do as you wish until midnight curfew. We realize that you are all adults at this point, and this is why we have set curfew to a later hour. Now, enjoy your meal! Breakfast and announcements will be conducted at 08:00 tomorrow morning.”

With that, food appeared on the table in front of them, and it wasn’t until the luxurious scent of  _ roast beef and mash  _ graced his nostrils that Harry realized just how famished he was.

x=x=x

**Draco’s POV (third-person)**

Draco couldn’t move as the speech ended and eating commenced. The very appearance of the various textures of food set in front of him set Draco’s stomach rolling to the bottom of his spine. He couldn’t eat this. Where were the clean, pure fruits and vegetables that were so reliable and safe? The heaps of mash and roast beef in front of him was sickeningly unpredictable; and people would be watching him; what will the _ death-eater  _ consume on his first day in hell?

He dared not look up at Potter, seated across from him as he was; he had every reason to jeer at and mock Draco, why shouldn’t he hurt the  _ death-eater _ ? Draco wasn’t worth the luxury of life sitting across from the saviour of the wizarding world. 

Draco clenched his fists in his laps, desperately tugging at the rapidly disintegrating threads of his Malfoy mask to  _ somehow shield him _ from the tugging, floaty sensation that was encompassing his body more every passing second. He tried breathing slowly but that seemed to do nothing but make him more aware of the looming  _ episode _ he was about to go into. With one, final, desperate attempt he straightened his spine and lifted his head - eyes closed - towards the ceiling, and slowly lowered his head again, exhaling as he did so. 

He opened his eyes and -  _ oh fuck _ \- whose hands were those?! They were  _ touching _ him,  _ attached _ to him, but he  _ didn’t recognize them _ . The long, spindly fingers attached to pale, almost transparent hands facing palm-upwards in his lap - they  _ couldn’t _ belong to him, could they? Was he  _ real _ ? Where were his hands? Was this even his body? The air he was desperately inhaling felt strange and far away in his throat, his brain continuing it’s pull from his body and from reality. Draco tried to move his arms, his lips, _ anything _ \- feel like he had any sort of control over this - alas, the foreign limbs attached to his body must belong to another, for they refused to answer his pleas. 

He was drifting now,  _ so floaty, so light, so empty _ . He made his mental self curl up into the fetal position and just enjoy the peaceful emptiness before the memories started. He watched with distant indifference as the images appeared; of his father torturing people, torturing him, of Granger bleeding as his aunt carved that hideous word into her skin, of Greyback chasing him down the corridors of the manor. These images quickly filled up the entire screen of his consciousness, blocking out any external images of the  _ hands that weren’t his hands _ or of Potter sitting across from him.

Draco drifted, riding the flow of memories with a cold, guilt-ridden numbness that seemed to only tighten and speed up the memories, causing them to shoot past his consciousness faster and faster until a sort of floaty narrowness encompassed his mind’s eye. He seemed to be looking through a long tunnel at the memory of that incident with Potter in that bathroom in sixth year. The flash of light flew out of Potter’s wand in slow-motion as the word ‘sectumsempra’ glazed his eardrums before the spell hit him and suddenly he was cloaked in a tight blackness.

_ ‘Draco’ _

_ “Draco!” _

“Draco! Wake-up!”

Black. So,  _ horribly _ , suffocatingly black and thick and heavy - the nothingness around him was bearing into his soul and tearing at his essence and he felt himself falling, sliding, faster,  _ faster, faster _ .

“Draco……………..Please!”

_ Voldemort _ . That pale, noseless face; it’s just so  _ white _ !

The bright white was encroaching on  _ the Nothing _ and now that it was leaving Draco wanted nothing more than to have that  _ Nothing _ around him once more because however horrible it was, it was sunshine compared to the bright, Voldemort white that was going to  _ devour his soul. _ He couldn’t be a coward this time. No, he would  _ fight _ .

As the white intensified he felt the return of his body around him, and he  _ fought _ !

He warded off that whiteness, shutting his eyes,  _ had they really been open this whole time _ ? He bit and clawed at the whiteness he could no longer see but knew was there, it’s talons repeatedly trying to grip his shoulders and he twisted and squirmed and screamed for all he was worth because surely,  _ someone _ had to hear him! Couldn’t Potter hear him, with his saviour complex and all? 

“Draco, Draco calm down it’s Pansy!”

Pansy? He didn’t know a  _ Pansy _ . The only people he knew were his father and mother and  _ Voldemort _ and Potter. Where was Potter? Potter!  _ Potter!  _ Harry come, please! Save him, save him from this  _ whiteness _ . Harry, he’s sorry, he promises he’s sorry, he really means it! Please just help him, kill  _ Voldemort _ , save him, die for him, give him a chance to die for you!

“Draco, shhhh.”

Someone was holding him, but it wasn’t the white anymore. Draco could tell because the white was cold and this person was warm. So, deliciously warm. And safe, and familiar; that smell of treacle tart mixed with sweat and fireplaces and brooms and  _ vanilla _ .

“Draco...you’re safe. Vol- he’s gone. He’s dead now. I killed him, you’re alive, you’re safe. Draco, you’re safe, can you open your eyes now?”

Draco did.

x=x=x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about the late update.   
> It's the prolonged lockdown for me.  
> Do you like where this story is going?  
> Also, fyi I will no longer promise update times because I have ADHD and then I just procrastinate if I set a goal and it takes longer to update because ADHD be like that.  
> Enjoy, be safe!


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